Ruminations
by insertedgynamehere
Summary: Harry and Ginny talk about Voldemort and the scars he leaves behind. Albus thinks about Harry and the one strength he will always possess that Tom Riddle never did. Small Oneshot, set during Harry's third year.


He should have expected it would be one of _those_ nights again, where any possible sleep would be interrupted rudely by the screams of his dying parents and that...that _horrible_ cold laughter, taunting and torturing him every time he closed his eyes for too long.

 _I took everything from you Harry. It's only a matter of time before..._

"Shut it." He found himself snarling under his breath before opening his eyes and deciding to abandon sleep altogether. Least it was the weekend; otherwise he could see himself falling asleep in Snape's lesson. _Not_ a happy prospect that.

 _Your friends will fall Harry...I will kill them, make them beg for mercy as your mother did...How can you let them near you when you know how much danger you put them in?_

Hands pressing against his head as if he could somehow keep that treacherous voice out by sheer physical force, Harry stood out of his bed and, careful not to wake the other peacefully sleeping boys in his dormitory up, slid himself into an old pair of jeans, torn at the knee from god knows when and slipped a comfortable hoodie on. Zipping it up and placing his wand in his jean pocket, Harry tiptoed downstairs, a hand still pressed against his burning head, the heat of the night making his hand clammy.

He was mildly surprised to stumble upon Ginny Weasley sitting on one of the comfy couches, head in her hands, muttering softly to herself. Harry had a sneaking suspicion he knew who about.

"Alright Ginny?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual voice as he removed his hand from his head and sat down on the couch opposite her. Ginny's head shot up out of her hands in surprise at his voice, a flush staining her cheeks ever so slightly.

 _She belongs in the Chamber...she was mine Harry, the only obstacle separating me from you. And that's what this is all about isn't it? Me...and you._

Harry promptly ignored that damned voice, sounding suspiciously like Riddle, and forced himself to lean back into the couch staring into the hypnotic flickering flames of the common room fire.

"What are you doing up so late Harry?"

"Same reason you are I expect. Couldn't sleep. May as well make sure I get first dibs on coffee."

There was silence after that, a tense silence. Harry could tell she wanted to say something but just...couldn't. Tongue tied.

 _You don't honestly expect her to talk to you do you Potter? I was her confidant, her best friend, her everything._

 _...until I stuck a Basilisk fang into your diary._ It took Harry a moment to realise he was responding to a bloody imaginary voice in his head instead of answering Ginny's question.

"Say again Ginny?"

"I...I asked if he ever goes away. His voice. Its...it's with me everywhere I go, whispering in my ear, mocking and taunting me. Day and night, he's always there." Her voice was dry, and she looked...tired. Tired and beaten down. He knew the feeling well.

Harry shifted to look at her, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees as he considered his answer, carefully.

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "I mean, he can still come back. We beat him back but Dumbledore reckons he'll find another way. " He paused for a second before continuing, feeling unusually vulnerable. "Nightmares though...well, they're another thing altogether I suppose."

"Doesn't ever seem like he's gone, does it? Even when he's been beaten, you can still see the effects all around you."

"He's like a ghost," Harry replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Sticks with you wherever you go; class, bed, library." He had spent enough nights tossing and turning with that voice keeping him awake to personally attest to that fact.

There was a momentary silence and then...

"He _is_ beaten though. Got a basilisk fang for his efforts, didn't he? He's gone right now and he doesn't rule us. That the important thing I guess. I'm my own person and his ghost or whatever it is can go stuff itself. His voice might be with me but I rule my own life, not him." Ginny wasn't looking at him as she spoke but there was a blazing, determined glint in her eyes as she looked into the fire. Tired, beaten down but not defeated. "Dementor's aren't helping any I suppose."

"Amen to that. Getting real sick of hearing my parents die every time one of those gits look at me." Harry blinked as he said that, the words leaving his mouth before he even had a chance to think about them. When she wasn't blushing and stuttering around him, Ginny seemed to be very good at causing the filter between his brain and mouth to disappear.

"...That's...That's horrible Harry." It was his turn to avert his eyes as Ginny looked at him, sympathy in her gaze. "Ministry's off their rocker letting them loose here. 'Specially considering how many kids here lost their parents to Riddle's followers."

"Eh. Could be worse. Could've cancelled Quidditch." He shuddered at the thought. They both shared a laugh at that, the idea of Wood's reaction to that last year more than enough to distract the pair from their grim conversation.

"Merlin, Professor McGonagall would have to go into hiding. None would be safe from his wrath." Harry sniggered at that, the idea of Wood becoming the next Dark Lord over Quidditch being cancelled giving him a right laugh before they trailed back into silence. It was a comfortable one this time, and remained for a time, until sunlight began to sneak through the windows, illuminating the common room.

Slowly Harry stood and stretched, yawning loudly enough to move Ginny out of her silent stupor.

"Reckon the Great Hall's open yet? I fancy I'll need that coffee if Ron and Hermione are on their usual form today." She smiled quietly, the sheer _normality_ that their conversation had turned to a comfortable change, a reminder that Tom Riddle hadn't won, that he hadn't taken everything away from them.

"If they're on their usual form, you'll need to borrow some earmuffs from Professor Sprout." Harry sniggered at that as he walked off, exiting the common room in a far happier state than he was in when he had awoken. He didn't feel quite so alone when he thought about Voldemort anymore and, pleasantly, that voice in his head had stopped whispering to him.

When he did enter the Great Hall, he found it relatively empty apart from Professors Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall at the teachers table, as well as few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws dotted about their respective tables. He took a seat near the top of the Gryffindor table (that was, after all, where the good stuff was) and poured himself a healthy dose of coffee, a faraway look in his eyes.

Professor Dumbledore couldn't help himself from asking "Not dwelling on dreams again, are we my boy?", a quiet concern evident in his tone.

Harry seemed to pull himself back to reality, blinking a few times before looking at Dumbledore and replying.

"No Professor. Just thinking." He took a sip of his coffee, wrapping both his hand around the steaming mug for a moment before talking again. "He was exceptionally lonely wasn't he? Voldemort, I mean."

Dumbledore peered over his spectacles, eyes twinkling in a way that strangely looked like pride. Pride and sadness.

"I see you've been thinking on your past experiences then. Yes, he was a lonely man Harry. The loneliest I have ever seen."

Harry frowned at that, taking another sip of coffee. Dumbledore could see him slowly putting his thoughts in order as he drunk.

"I...I'm not saying I feel sorry for him. He's caused too much pain and suffering for me to feel sorry for him right now. But...living like that, with no one who understands you, no one to laugh with..."

"It is a terrible thing Harry. Should he ever fully return to the land of the living there is one advantage you will always have over Tom Riddle, regardless of his power, his followers, the fear he causes." He was smiling at him now, kindly and knowingly. Professor McGonagall was looking curiously between the two of them and Professor Snape seemed to be doing his best to ignore the both of them.

Harry smiled, a full, happy, radiant smile at that and raised his coffee to Dumbledore in acknowledgement as he stood up, grabbing another cup of coffee and passing it to Ron who had stumbled in, blearily rubbing his eyes from sleep as he sat down.

"Have a good weekend Professor."

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he watched his students mill in slowly yet surely, a steady stream of friends chatting and laughing to one another. Slowly, the noise level in the hall grew and all the while he watched Harry Potter, laughing and smiling, joking with Ron and Hermione, teasing Mr Finnigan a little further down the table about the pretty Ravenclaw he was eyeing, winking at young Ginny Weasley as if they shared a secret no one else did.

Harry, for all the hardships he had and would endure would be just fine. His friends and compassion were the best of him, and Albus felt secure in the knowledge that, when with his friends, Harry Potter could take on the world and win.


End file.
